


Compound

by LaVieEnRose



Series: The One Where Justin Loses His Hearing [116]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Deaf Character, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Outsider, Polyamory, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23040595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaVieEnRose/pseuds/LaVieEnRose
Summary: An interpreter comes into the ER for our heroes.
Relationships: Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk)/Other(s), Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)/Other(s)
Series: The One Where Justin Loses His Hearing [116]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1026162
Comments: 41
Kudos: 122





	Compound

I'm a freelance interpreter, which means I take any job that comes up and seems interesting, and a lot of times that means strange hours and last-minute assignments, which is how I ended up in an ER in Queens midday on a Thursday for an urgent request. I didn't know much going in—you rarely do for these last-minute jobs—but I knew it was a Deaf couple there after an accident, and I had my patient's name.

“Evan Taylor?” I asked at the front desk when I arrived, and they pointed me towards a curtained-off gurney. I opened the curtain and found two young-looking guys, one on the gurney cradling his towel-wrapped arm, and the other standing by protectively, his thumbnail in his mouth. **Evan?** I said to the one on the gurney, and he nodded.

“We're both Deaf,” he said. I wasn't surprised that he spoke; it couldn't have been easy to sign with his arm like that, and a lot of my clients voice for themselves. “We'll both speak, but he doesn't read lips well.” He pointed to the other guy and fingerspelled **Justin** and his sign name.

 **Nice to meet you,** I said to him, and he nodded, looking nervous. **Have you been seen by a doctor yet?** I asked Evan.

He shook his head. **They said...** he started, and then he looked at Justin for help.

Justin jumped in smoothly. **They said they're backed up. Same thing they always say. He's in a lot of pain, I want them to give him something.**

 **I'm okay,** Evan said. **I don't need anything. I don't really feel it right now, I think.**

 **That's the shock,** Justin said. His hands were shaking a little.

Evan noticed. **You need to sit down,** he signed, slowly, awkwardly.

**I'm fine.**

**You just had a seizure.**

Justin waved his hand. **I've always just had a seizure.**

I looked between the two of them. **What...exactly happened here?** I say. If you're going to be explaining things to doctors, it's best to have a working understanding of it beforehand, and now I wasn't even certain which one of these was the patient.

“He had a seizure,” Evan said.

Justin watched his lips. **We were on the stairs.**

“I was behind him.”

**And then...we fell.**

Evan nodded towards his arm. **Yep,** he fingerspelled.

Justin asked Evan what the hell was taking someone so long, a name sign I didn't know. **Brian,** Justin clarified to me.

 **His husband,** Evan said, or tried to, one-handed. **He's hearing.**

Less than a minute later the curtain swung open and a man walked in, dressed in a suit and tie and looking harried as hell. Brian, I had to assume. He went straight to Evan and hugged him with one arm, pulling Evan's head to his chest with the palm of his hand, while he glared absolute daggers at Justin.

 **What did I do!** Justin said.

**You text me “hospital 911” and that's it?**

**We were in a hurry!**

**I thought it was you! I just spent ten fucking minutes at the check-in desk yelling at the nurses for misplacing you before it even fucking occurred to me to ask about Evan. What the hell happened?**

There was a pause, like neither of them wanted to speak, then, **Justin had a seizure on the stairs,** Evan said, small, and Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a minute. Evan watched him, but Justin looked down at the ground.

After a moment Brian shook himself off and straightened up, business-like. **Let me see your arm,** he said, and Evan shook his head.

**It's gross.**

**I don't care.**

**There's a lot of blood,** Evan said, with a hard look at Brian, and for some reason that made Brian nod and back off and turn his attention to Justin instead.

**Why is he standing up?**

**Because he's annoying.**

**Sit,** Brian said to him, and then turned to me and said, **Interpreter?**

**That's me.**

**Has a doctor been in yet?**

**Not yet,** I said.

“Jesus Christ,” Brian muttered. “Okay.” He palmed the back of Evan's neck. **You're okay.**

“I know.”

**What happened, you cut it?**

“Not...exactly.”

Brian gave him a look. **The fuck does that mean? You said there was blood.**

Evan glanced at Justin, then looked at Brian and said, “I think it's broken.”

**You _think_ it's broken?**

“The bone went through the skin.”

Brian's face dropped and he took a slow breath in through his nose. **Well, yes, that sounds like it's probably fucking broken, Evan.**

“I'm sorry.”

 **Stop.** Brian looked up at Justin. **Everything's okay.**

Justin chewed the inside of his cheek.

 **You need to sit down,** Brian said, suddenly very gentle. **You look really sick.**

“I think I need to sit down,” Justin said, and Brian nodded and helped him into the chair, where Justin immediately curled up with his arms around himself. He was shaking.

 **He didn't hit his head, did he?** Brian asked Evan.

Evan shook his head. “I caught him,” he said, and Brian kissed his cheek.

We waited about five more minutes before the doctor showed up. Evan was starting to get really uncomfortable, and Brian alternated between soothing him and checking on Justin, whose arm had started shaking continuously. **You didn't bring anything for him, did you?** he said to Evan.

“No. I'm sorry.”

**They'll have stuff here.**

The doctor came in, finally, clicking a pen and stuffing it in his pocket. “Evan Taylor?” he said, and I started interpreting.

“Hi,” he said.

“Let's get a look at that arm,” he said, and Brian stepped between Evan and Justin and took Evan's other hand as the doctor unwound the towel from Evan's arm. “Oh, wow,” the doctor said.

Yeah, he had that right. His arm was absolutely mangled, a mess of blood and skin and...yep, that's bone. Brian gagged and took a step back, then came back to the gurney and squeezed Evan's hand.

The doctor immediately called the nurse to get Evan some morphine, and Evan said, “Justin,” to Brian, who nodded and said, “Could we get some Klonopin for him? He's epileptic and he's not doing well.”

“Yeah, we can do that,” the doctor said. “That how this happened?”

Evan told them the story of the seizure on the stairs, and a nurse came and gave Justin a few pills and started an IV on Evan. “What are they giving me?” he asked Brian.

 **Morphine,** Brian fingerspelled, slowly.

Evan shook his head hard. “I don't want that.”

**Who the fuck doesn't want...oh.**

Evan looked at the doctor, then back at Brian, his eyes big.

Brian said, **Sweetheart, your wrist is shattered. We don't have a choice here. We're watching you, it's okay.** He nodded to the nurse, who started an injection into his IV line.

“Oh, whoa,” Evan said.

 **Yeah, enjoy it, kid,** Brian said.

Evan took a slow breath in.

 **I know,** Brian said. **You need it. It's okay.**

Evan shook a little, and Brian adjusted the pillows behind his back. Justin had been sleeping, or close to it, but he stirred to take the pills the nurse handed him. “Brian?”

 **Eyes to yourself,** Brian said to him. **Be a good boy and take your meds.**

“Shut up. How's Evan?”

 **Don't look,** Brian said sharply, still standing between them.

“I know,” Justin said.

The doctor started winding gauze around Evan's arm, and Brian said, **Wait, you're not going to fix it?**

“That'll happen in surgery,” the doctor said. “Right now we're just trying to keep the wound as sterile as possible.”

Justin watched me interpret. **He needs surgery?**

Brian said, **His arm is in pieces. Kind of a foregone conclusion.**

 **He's never had surgery before,** Justin said.

 **He'll join our illustrious club.** Brian turned back to Evan. **No big deal. They fix arms every day. I assume.**

Evan took a deep breath in. “He should get checked out. Make sure he didn't get hurt.”

 **I'm not hurt,** Justin said after I interpreted. **I feel fine.**

 **You feel fine,** Brian repeated. **You are a walking seizure.**

Justin pouted. “I'm not even standing up.”

The constant switches between English and ASL were making my head spin, but none of them seemed to have a problem. I wondered if Brian was an interpreter, though he was awfully well dressed.

“I'm going to give you a shot of an antibiotic,” the doctor said to Evan, and after Evan nodded he injected something into the IV. Justin immediately sneezed a few times, and Brian turned to him incredulously.

**You have got to be kidding me.**

**Leave me alone.**

**It's _all the way over there._**

**Leave me alone!** he said, and sneezed again, and Brian rolled his eyes.

“When is the surgery gonna be?” Evan asked the doctor.

**Within the next few hours. We need to get some imaging done first, and then we'll get you on the schedule.**

“You should take him home,” Evan said to Brian.

“Yeah, that sounds very likely.”

“He's little. Pick him up and move him.”

Brian shook his head.

“I don't want him here.”

“Bullshit you don't. Let me worry about him. You worry about the bone coming out of your arm.”

Evan took in a shaky breath.

 **Drugs kicking in?** Brian said.

“Yeah.”

 **All right.** Brian palmed the back of his neck. **You're okay.**

The radiologist came to take Evan away, and Brian asked Evan if he wanted me to go with them, but Evan said, “No, stay with Justin, I'm sure he's got questions,” and sure enough, as soon as he was gone Justin started peppering the doctor with questions about the surgery and Evan's recovery and asking how Evan being HIV+ and in kidney failure, neither of which seemed to be news to the doctor, was going to affect everything. Brian stood by and texted some people and jumped in in a few places to clarify what Justin meant when his signing got a little muddled, but otherwise didn't interrupt.

Once Justin seemed satisfied, Brian said, **And now you,** to him.

**Really, I'm okay. I just have a headache.**

**You're having absence seizures. You need to sleep. And Evan was right, you should get checked out. Couldn't hurt to get an MRI.**

**I didn't hit my head. I didn't even lose consciousness all the way. I don't need an MRI.**

**Let the doctor check you.**

Justin glanced at the doctor, and me.

 **What?** Brian said, exasperated.

**Nothing.**

**Tell me.**

**I'm freaked out and I don't want hands on me right now, okay?** he signed, small.

Brian softened a little. **I told you not to look.**

He shrugged. **It doesn't matter. It's the smell.**

 **Blood and hospitals, yeah. Okay.** He sighed. **Can I check you?**

Justin nodded a little, and Brian crouched next to his chair and pushed Justin's sleeves up one by one, carefully running his hands over Justin's elbows and wrists. He brought his hands up to his neck and cupped the back of his head, and Justin winced.

**I know. Sorry. Good so far.**

He worked his way down, bending each of Justin's knees, then stopped when he got to the floor. He groaned and lowered his forehead to rest on Justin's thigh.

“What?” Justin said quietly.

Brian lifted his head and then Justin's foot, gently, to show him a swollen and purple ankle.

“Oh,” Justin said.

**Justin.**

“I'm sorry.”

**How do you not feel that?**

“I don't know.”

 **You have to...** Brian raised his hands and dropped them back down in frustration. **You have to feel things.**

“I know. I will. I'm sorry.”

The doctor examined Justin's ankle and determined it was a bad sprain but not a break, and he had it wrapped up in an ace bandage before Evan got back from imaging. His arm was heavily splinted now, and he waved drunkenly at Justin and Brian when the rolled his bed back in.

Brian rested his hand on top of his head. “The drugs are okay with his kidneys?” he asked the doctor.

“We'll have him on dialysis right after surgery to help get everything out of his system,” he says. “And we'll want to keep him for a day or two to keep an eye on him, since kidney patients can have a hard time coming out of anesthesia.”

Brian turned to Justin. **You get all that?**

Justin watched me and nodded.

 **So no freaking out if he doesn't wake up right away,** Brian said.

“I am so not the one who freaks out!” He got out of his chair as Evan got settled.

Brian said, **Justin, your fucking ankle—**

“Okay, so help me then,” Justin said, and Brian glared at him but came over and helped him over to Evan's bed. Justin climbed up on Evan's good side.

Evan said “Heyyyyy,” drunkenly and bundled Justin under his arm. “How's he doing?” he asked Brian.

**He keeps having seizures, it's annoying.**

Evan tapped the tip of Justin's nose. “Drugs will kick in soon. Drugs are good.”

**God, I am going to have my hands full keeping painkillers away from you, aren't I.**

“Yyyyyep.”

 **Practice for your fucking transplant, I guess.** He ran his fingers absently through Justin's hair. **He asleep?**

“Almost,” Evan said.

**Good. Been driving me fucking crazy trying to stay awake. You in any pain?**

“A little. 'sokay.”

**You sound like Justin when you slur your words like that.**

Evan yawned. “They took my hearing aids out for the...pictures.”

**I can see that.**

“Mm, right.”

Brian sighed and pulled the chair up. **I have always been so fucking worried about those stairs.**

“At least I was there.”

**That doesn't seem to have worked out too well for us, kiddo.**

“He needs a....what's the word.”

**Elevator.**

“I know the sign, what's the word.”

Brian fingerspelled it.

“Elevator. Yeah.”

**He doesn't want one.**

“I know.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. **He's so fucking aggravating, the things he'll accept and not accept. He has a seizure disorder and he can't fucking breathe, why does he think he has to do stairs?**

“We don't want people to say we're lazy,” Evan said.

“Nobody thinks that.”

“Someone, always, is thinking that,” Evan said. “Trust me. There's always that one person.”

**One person can't be enough.**

“But it is.”

 **But it _can't_ be,** Brian insisted. **He needs to be safe.**

“It's his choice.”

**It's your arm.**

Evan shrugged his good shoulder.

 **I want him to not have to think about _everything,_** Brian said. **He doesn't even know how many things other people do without worrying. You probably don't either.**

“Maybe it's better that way,” Evan said.

Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You chose this,” Evan said. “You chose sick people.”

 **Oh, bullshit I did. I chose a mouthy teenager and he picked you out of an art gallery.** He stood up and adjusted Evan's blanket.

“Poor Brian.”

**I'm the only one in here not drugged to oblivion. You're damn right poor Brian.**

“You'd be so bored if we were healthy.”

Brian bent down and kissed his cheek. **Yeah, probably.**

Well, I officially did not understand what the situation was here, that was for sure.

Brian and Justin both got a little uneasy when they came to take Evan in for his surgery. Brian repeated the questions Justin had already asked about Evan's medical history, and Justin had to be reminded over and over that they couldn't take Evan away until he let go of him. **No weepy goodbyes,** Brian said, eventually strong-arming Justin away from the bed. **We'll see you in a few hours.** They watched Evan get pushed away, Justin leaning his weight off his bad ankle, Brian brushing his fingers up and down Justin's back.

They asked me to stick around to interpret any medical updates, so I got some coffee and sat down near them in the waiting room. Justin was rubbing his temples a lot and Brian kept encouraging him to sleep and knocking his fingers away from his mouth.

 **We're going to have to be careful with him when he's recovering,** Brian said. **They're going to prescribe something. Percocet or something like that.**

**One of us just needs to be in charge of them.**

**You want to do it?**

Justin laughed. **No.**

**Brian Kinney, stopping someone from doing drugs.**

**Truly, call the Vatican.**

**Doing okay?**

**I just wish they'd update us.**

**Yeah, they're busy digging around, I guess.**

Justin shuddered.

**Sorry.**

He rubbed his forehead again.

 **Why don't you sleep some?** Brian said gently. **I'll wake you up if anyone comes out.**

Justin shook his head, and Brian elbowed him.

**What?**

**What's with you?** Brian said.

Justin sighed. **This is my fault.**

**God, stop. Don't make me sit through this.**

Justin rolled his eyes.

**I'm serious, this is such a fucking waste of time.**

**We're in a waiting room.**

**Did you take your meds? Did someone know you were on the stairs?**

“Yeah.”

 **Okay. Then it's not your fucking fault. Now can you just,** Brian said, and gestured to his thigh, and Justin shifted in his seat and lay down with his head on Brian's leg.

“This isn't usually what I'd be doing in your lap,” Justin griped, and Brian laughed and flicked him.  
Justin was asleep soon after, and Brian said, “Good, that's good,” softly to himself.

I came over to him and said, “I'm going to grab another cup of coffee. You need anything?”

 **No, I'm okay,** Brian said. **I'm good right here.**


End file.
